


Sidetracked

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, None - Freeform, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon needs a friend and Jim is there,  and in turn, Simon decides to clue Jim in on just what Jim needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sidetracked

## Sidetracked

by J.C.

Author's website:  <http://www.skeeter63.org/jayci/jcmain.html>

The characters from the TV series "The Sentinel" are not my property, and I am not making money off of them. That's it.

This story was previously published in "Sinful Simon" (though it isn't very 'sinful' and Simon somehow made it not about him <g>). This version is not exactly the same as the zine version.   
I wrote this a long time ago when I wanted to play around with Simon a bit, but my J/B gene got in the way, so I settled for this look at Jim and Simon's friendship and how Blair fits in.

* * *

Sidetracked by J.C. 

Jim Ellison knew that his captain was in his office, because he could still hear the regular sounds of breathing and heartbeat. Yet, despite the fact that he had knocked loudly on the closed door, the customary bellow had yet to be heard. He shifted the papers he held to one hand, the other going to slowly turn the doorknob. Easing the files into the widening gap, he called out. 

"Simon? Got those case files you wanted to go over. Got a minute?" 

When there was still no answer, Jim poked his head in the door as well. Simon Banks was indeed in the office, sitting behind his desk as expected, cigar between his fingers as he read a piece of paper he was holding. Jim walked in and was standing right in front of the desk before Simon looked up. The expression in his boss' dark brown eyes startled him. 

"You okay, Simon? Did you get some bad news or something? There's nothing wrong with Darryl, is there?" 

Simon blinked and said in surprise, "Jim, what are you doing here?" 

"I knocked on your door and you didn't answer. I walked right up to this desk and you didn't even blink. What's going on?" 

A wide range of emotions flashed across Simon's face and he rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, but said nothing. 

"Hey, I understand if you don't want to talk about it. I really just wanted to give you this paperwork. Sandburg and I have it all up to date. Just let us know when that arson case is due to go to court. Blair will have to work something out at the university, so that he can have his class covered when it's time for him to testify." 

"Joan wants to reconcile." 

Jim sank down into one of the chairs facing Simon's desk, knees giving out and jaw dropping at the same time. He snapped his mouth shut, and tried to take the surprised look off of his face, but it was very evident in his tone when he spoke. 

"She wants to _what_?" 

"Reconcile." 

"Wh... how... why.... _Reconcile_?" 

"Yeah, that's kind of how I felt." 

"Seriously, Simon. Have you been seeing her? I thought she was working at that firm in Seattle." 

"She is. We haven't really been seeing each other. Just, you know, stuff with Darryl. We stopped sniping at each other a while ago, been getting along, but this is still sort of out of left field. Darryl would be thrilled, though." 

"I know it's none of my business, but are you actually considering this whole thing?" 

"No. Well... maybe. Hell, I don't know, Jim. I spent over fifteen years with that woman. I really did love her, you know. It was the job that killed us." 

"Simon..." 

"Hell, truthfully, I'm just tired of being alone. I have no social life to speak of. What could it hurt to talk to her about it? That's all she's asking." He waved the paper around. "She says she's been reflecting on some things. How we were, how we are now... We share a history...and a child..." 

"But all of that history isn't good. I remember..." 

"Don't say it. How can I blame her for seeking out what I wasn't giving her?" 

The pain on Simon's face was actually painful for Jim to watch. His wife having an affair, his marriage breaking up, his kid taking it badly, _Simon_ taking it badly... all on top of a job that _never_ stopped being stressful. It seemed that each of those things showed clearly in the features of the police captain's face. He looked... so very tired. 

Banks was gruff, stern, and commanding, but Jim also knew how much he cared about people. He had shown it at two crucial points in Jim's life. At one, he had hooked the detective up with his first partner in Major Crimes, Jack Pendergrast, effectively turning Jim's life around. At the other, he had listened, believed (eventually), and accepted everything thrown at him concerning Jim's heightened senses, including a civilian tagalong in the person of Blair Sandburg, his current partner, basically _saving_ Jim's life. 

"You're a good man. You deserve better than just -- " 

"I'm a _difficult_ man. _Joan_ deserved better." 

Jim didn't want to go back and forth about blame. He was sure that Simon had made mistakes, but so had Joan. And the depth of the man's sadness could possibly cause him to make an even bigger mistake. Unbelievable that he hadn't really noticed how unhappy his friend had been--hadn't paid that much attention, given all he had dealt with in his own life over the past few years. 

"You know, when I was a kid, I had a train set. My dad set it up and he would only let me play with it when he was supervising. The train followed along on the tracks, going in a roundabout route through tunnels, around the mountains and stuff. I used to love to watch it. Every once in a while, I wanted to rearrange it so that the train could veer off on a side track, see it make its way by a different route to finish the circuit. But my dad wouldn't let me touch it, and it always stayed the same. I loved that set, because in my head I knew there were so many other possibilities." 

Interrupting Jim's musings, Simon asked, "Jim, what the hell does that have to do with anything?" 

_It means that I'm going to take a chance on getting you sidetracked, Simon. Show you that happiness can be out there for you, maybe just not where you're looking... in the same old places._

"Why don't we go out for a drink? Take your mind off of all this for a while." 

Jim had never heard a heavier sigh, and it shook him somewhere deep inside. He stood up and waited, watching Simon fold the letter, place it in an inside suit pocket, and then light his cigar. His hands raised in mock surrender at the look on the captain's face. Hell, he would be the last person to start throwing government regulations at the man -- he'd just adjust his sense of smell. 

Simon stood, slowly rising up to his full height, looking down at Jim. "Fine, let's go." Crossing to the door, he waited until Jim had joined him, then said. "Where to?" 

Grinning, Jim asked, "Still holding onto to that bottle of Scotch I got you for Christmas?" 

The booming laugh echoed in the bullpen as they walked through. "Should have known, Ellison, that you'd find a way to dip into that. Okay, a fine single malt chez Banks. Works for me. That way I won't have to worry about driving home." 

Jim's own laugh sounded a little hollow. "That bottle is for savoring, not getting drunk." 

"I'm not going to get drunk, Jim. I'm just going to savor a _lot_." 

* * *

As Jim made himself comfortable on Simon's couch, Simon retrieved the bottle and two glasses from the bar. They were silent as they sipped, each letting the fiery sensation of the alcohol work through them, easing the tension. 

Finally, Jim spoke. "Tell me, Simon. Do you think she still loves you?" 

Seemingly lost in the sound of the soft strains of jazz filling the air, Simon kept taking sips out of his glass. 

Jim persisted. "Don't you think you should have love... excitement... something besides just... _company_?" 

"That's more than what I have now. She's the mother of my son. I do care about her." 

With a hand, Jim reached out, then pulled back. Then reached out again, his hand ghosting over his friend's arm, as he tried to decide where to land his touch. He settled on grasping a familiar broad shoulder in a gesture he had made many times before over the years... in congratulations... in thanks... in commiseration. Except this time his fingers brushed the side of Simon's neck, in a slow, tentative gesture. 

Simon didn't move, didn't tense, didn't pull away or draw closer. Jim watched the strong profile as the silent man sat with his elbows on his knees, both hands holding his glass. 

"Jim..." Simon rasped. 

"Do you love _her_?" He leaned forward, taking the glass from the other man's hand, then positioned himself so that their faces were close together. 

"Jim, what are you doing?" 

"Trying to get you to see the possibilities." The soft words hovered in the air, wisps of intimation and invitation. 

When Simon turned, his face was serious, but Jim noted that somehow it didn't seem so sad. "And what makes you think that I'd even be open to such possibilities?" 

"Because you're not yelling or hitting or... moving away?" 

"Maybe that's just because I see that my best detective, who's also a good friend, is very concerned about me. So much so that he's blinded to the fact that he may have stepped over the line." 

"Simon, if I'm way off base, here, I'm sorry. We can just get drunk off of this bottle, talk shit for a while, and I'll leave you to sleep it off on the couch. Just know that I'm here to lend an ear, a shoulder... anything. You shouldn't go back to her out of loneliness." 

"But you want me to... us to...." Simon gave a harsh laugh. "What you're suggesting, I'd be doing for the same reason." 

"Would you? There's more between us than that. Always has been, always will be. Whether we're just two friends sharing a drink... or something more." Jim rubbed his hand over his face. "Damn, Simon, if you have to find a man in your bed, wouldn't you rather it be one _you_ put there?" The question caused Simon to flinch, and Jim immediately regretted it. 

"Shit, Ellison, that was cold." 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Maybe I should just go." 

This time Simon reached out, grasping Jim's shoulder with a large hand. "No. I.... Have another drink. It's okay. I've just been blindsided here." 

"And I'm not helping." 

"No, you are. By being here... by getting me thinking." 

"So then, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking." 

"What about Blair?" 

Jim stared, totally taken by surprise. "Blair?" 

"Yeah. You know, Sandburg, your _partner_." 

"You're thinking about being with _Blair_?" 

Then, it was Simon's turn to stare. "What? No... I mean, what about _you_ and Blair? I always thought that the two of you were... _together_." 

"Me and Sandburg? Why would you think that?" 

Simon wasn't sure he could even begin to explain the myriad of ways he saw the team of Ellison and Sandburg connect on any given day. The looks, the touches, the close way they had. He just shrugged. 

Jim let out a little laugh. "Are we talking about the same guy? You've seen him in action. I let that go a long time ago. He's my partner, my best friend, but that's it. I'm sure Blair's open to a lot of things, but cynical, old cops like me..." 

"And me..." Simon smiled, and Jim smiled back, glad to see just that small glimpse of lifted spirits. 

Reaching out again, Jim placed his hand over Simon's where it lay on the sofa between them. He didn't need his heightened sense of touch to feel the trembling. "Simon... " 

"Jim, I guess you could say that I'm a rookie at this. And I value our relationship too much to screw it up." He grimaced at his words. "You know..." 

"To be honest, I'm probably more nervous than you are. I've never been..." Jim stopped, his eyes on the sight of their two hands. So different... shape, color, size... 

"What? _You've_ never been with a man? Or do you mean a _black_ man?" He pulled his hand from underneath Jim's and clenched it tight. 

Jim grabbed the closed fist, slowly uncurling the fingers, lining their two palms up. "No, it's that I've never been with anyone _bigger_ than me before." 

Slowly, Simon entwined his fingers with Jim's, holding his hand gently. Jim could hear his friend's heartrate rising, the body temperature intensifying, filling the air with a sudden burst of cigars, cologne, and an intoxicating, earthy scent that he knew wasn't the aged scotch sitting forgotten on the table. He felt Simon's other hand come to rest heavily on his leg, high above his knee. 

"I know that I've been known to bite your head off, from time to time, Detective," Strong fingers rubbed in a slow rhythm. "But, I don't think I'd do it literally." The teasing touch sent a tingling up to the juncture of Jim's thighs, and Jim was left wondering how Simon had managed to over the situation. 

"Simon...?" Jim's question ended in a shaky chuckle. "Are you sure?" 

Instead of answering, Simon asked a question of his own. "What happens tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow, you go take that letter out of your pocket and look at it as _one_ thing you could do. Make a decision with your eyes and mind--and heart--open." 

Simon sighed, touched by the concern in the voice that was mirrored in the depths of the blue eyes. Leaning back, he moved his one hand from Jim's leg and slowly released the grip of the other. Reaching over, he pulled the letter from the jacket that he had lain over the arm of the couch and tore it into little pieces, letting them fall in a haphazard pile on the coffee table. 

"Not today, not this way," he said in a low voice. 

Jim got the feeling that Simon meant more by that quiet statement than just going back to his ex-wife. 

Simon looked over, a slight smile on his face, watching Jim watch him, and thought of another pair of blue eyes... wide, adoring eyes. He hadn't always been a captain behind a desk; he had been a hell of a detective in his day. And obviously, Jim was a little too close to the situation to see what was right in front of him. Shaking his head slightly, he realized that Jim didn't know how right he had been... there are always possibilities. You just have to see them. 

Feeling much more comfortable in the role of giving advice as opposed to receiving it, Simon relaxed as he said, "Jim, let me tell you a story: One day when I was feeling like my life was on a track leading to nowhere, a friend of mine told me that sometimes you have to be willing to veer off, you know, be sidetracked... Because, sometimes, there's something out there for you... just a slight turn away..." 

**THE END**

* * *

End Sidetracked by J.C.: jazzedup@prodigy.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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